Angel Beats: Where were they then?
by Kakaranaya
Summary: They all got to the same place, but how they got there was not the same. T for language


**A/N: This is just an idea I've had for awhile that I finally got down on "paper." I'll eventually get around to doing this for the other characters, as well!**

* * *

_To: TK_

_From: Jack_

_Are you going to the party at Izzy's tonight?_

_To: Jack_

_From: TK_

_Yeah man I just have to sneak past my mom, no problem_

_To: TK_

_From: Jack_

_Alright see you there_

TK threw his phone on the bed and tried to turn back to the softly playing music video, only to have "Stairway to Heaven" blare from his phone seconds later. He winced at the needles the deafening ringtone shot through his head and stumbled out of his chair to get his phone.

_To: TK_

_From: Jack_

_You alright to come though? Callie says you're having some pretty nasty headaches_

_To: Jack_

_From: TK_

_Lol I'm fine just from lack of sleep probably you know how killer Norton's class is_

_To: TK_

_From: Jack_

_English class is definitely "killer" but you should at least tell your parents about it and get it checked out_

_To: Jack_

_From: TK_

_Mom'll just freak out and cry, and dad'll just brush it off like it's nothing, no way in hell am I going to tell them but I'm about to leave for the party, so see you_

TK put his phone on silent and put it into the pocket of his faded blue jeans, dropping it three times before succeeding. He closed his eyes for a minute before standing, legs shaking. Looking in the mirror one last time, he adjusted his red bandana so that it covered most of his eyes, leaving just enough of his line of vision to see enough to get around. The fluorescent lights in the apartment hallways were just too much. He softly opened the door, hoping his mother wasn't waiting outside to ask for "mother-son" time. But no. She was in her room right across the hall, door wide open but fast asleep, cat standing outside like a guard dog.

Silently thanking the gods, he tiptoed past her door, maneuvering around the cat trying to rub against his leg with a quick spin. Another shot of pain made him fall against the wall with a soft thump. _Bad luck, _he thought to himself, _how am I going to dance at the party? _He pushed off the wall with one trembling hand.

Walking was hard. With each step the doorway seemed to get farther and farther away, as the pain just got worse and worse. He felt like his blood was on fire, coursing through his body, killing him from the inside.

"TK?" he heard his mother mumble. He heard the rustle of sheets falling to the floor and footsteps padding towards the open door.

_No chance to get out now…_ he thought to himself. He sunk to the floor, curling over. The world around him was pulsing, enveloping his surroundings in a black, grainy blanket each time. Too much pain. His body met the ground. He heard his mother scream his name and shake his shoulders, but he didn't have the strength to respond. He heard his mom run for the phone by the door and dial 911. He heard her screaming into the operator, demanding an ambulance immediately.

_Quiet down…_ he wanted to tell her. _I need quiet._

And quiet he had.

* * *

His eyes were closed. He couldn't open them. He couldn't move.

"His brain was basically one giant tumor, and most of his brain has been damaged…" a deep, unfamiliarly accented, voice said. "It's surprising he had been able to function for this long." A sigh, a flip of papers, an uncomfortable silence. "There's no hope. Even if he does wake up, he'll have to go to extensive physical therapy to even have a chance of regaining motor skills, and he'll have to relearn the entire English language, along with math and critical thinking. We can keep him alive and out of pain for awhile, but we're not sure how long. I'm so sorry."

TK knew he should understand what the man was saying. He knew he had heard this language his whole life, but why did it sound like the national language of…? What country? Oh, whatever, it doesn't matter. He couldn't even see. He wasn't sure if he was even alive.

A woman screeched a screech full of agony, and a quiet, timid man softly comforted her, his voice shaking as well. His mom and dad, right? How could he even be sure?

"I'll give you two some time alone," the man with the deep voice said, followed by a soft _clunk_.

TK felt a soft hand grab his own, damp from wiping away tears. His mother had stopped making the loud noise, but he could still feel that she was shaking. Where was the man, his father?

"Oh, and how are we ever going to tell Jack and Callie? They'll want to see him before…before…" and the woman starting screaming again.

"Don't worry about that, I'll tell them both when we leave."

"When we leave?! We're not leaving."

"We have to, visiting hours end in five minutes."

After the five minutes were up, he could feel the woman grasp onto his hand as the man presumably dragged her away. The doctors came back in and fiddled with something next to him, making beeps and boops with each clack. A whirring noise. He tried to hold onto whatever consciousness he had, but it was slipping away until there was nothing.

* * *

"He seems so…still, are you sure this is him?" a teenage boy, still with a slightly scratchy voice, said.

"Yes, Jack, don't be stupid." A sharp screech of a chair being pulled across the floor. "Hey, TK, can you understand me?" A girl with a familiar voice, one that was slightly high and made her sound younger than she really was.

Callie. Jack.

"Of course he can't understand you, he doesn't know English anymore."

"Shut up, Jack, I asked because they said he'd have to relearn English when he wakes up," the girl, Callie, snapped. "Well, TK, if you know what we're saying, we brought you some stuff. Jack bought you that guitar you always wanted. You know, from that little music store near the Chinese restaurant? We'll prop it up against your bed for when you wake up, although you won't be able to play it for awhile. Well, you always liked dancing more, so it shouldn't be that big of a deal."

"Why are you telling him if he can't understand English anymore?"

An exasperated sigh. "The more we talk to him, the faster he'll be able to learn. It's like how parents talk to their babies to help them speak."

"So are we TK's parents now?"

"Your sarcasm is not appreciated. Shouldn't you be a bit more concerned?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"_Anyways_," Callie said, "we brought you a CD player. Jack figured that you'd want to listen to music while you're out cold. Guess he cares about you more than he shows, huh?" He could almost hear Jack glaring at Callie.

This went on for awhile, Callie talking to him with Jack making snarky interjections every once in awhile. Callie would every once in awhile take his hand and hold it in hers, stroking his hand with her thumb, only to quickly let go when Jack made a comment about it. He visualized them, Cassie smiling behind those ginormous dorky glasses of hers and Jack standing behind her, his dark shaggy hair slightly falling in his eyes. When they left, they turned on the little CD player they put next to his bed, and 80s rock filled the room.

The next few days were filled with 80s rock, dreams of a cheap guitar, and doctors coming in and out of his room, changing the needles stuck in his arms. His parents would come in once a day, his dad comforting his sobbing mother. Has she stopped crying since the first day? Jack and Callie came every day after school, too. Callie would talk on and on about how she hates that guy in her math class that always finds a way to cheat off of her and how it's weird not having him to talk to during science class anymore. Whenever Callie would leave the room, Jack would tune and strum the guitar by his bed, sometimes even quietly singing the songs he and TK wrote in middle school. They could never stay long, though, but he wished they could.

"Jack couldn't come today," Callie said one day, pulling up the chair with the familiar screech of the legs against the floor. "He has to babysit his little sister." Silence, only the beep of the heart monitor machine. "You know, our theater arts teacher really misses you. She really liked your dancing, you know. Man, am I jealous of you! All the teachers loved you, but your grades sucked. I guess you just had that type of charm, huh? Straight As, yet all the teachers still don't care one way or the other about me."

He heard her lean back in her chair and almost fall over. If he could, he would have teased her about that. He could knew her pale cheeks were the color of fire right now.

"A lot of the girls miss you, too. Who knew you were so popular? Jack's a little jealous. I kind of am, too. I've kind of had the biggest crush on you since second grade, but you probably already knew that. When you wake up, I'll tell you that again, since you might not be able to hear me now."

More silence.

"Remember those red bandanas the three of us had in fifth grade? I found mine at the bottom of my dresser the other day. Here," he felt her lift up his hand and tie a cloth around it, "I want you to have this."

A few beeps went off. He heard Callie flip open a phone, click a button, and place it on the table. "You know," she continued, "life isn't quiet the same without you around. You are always the one to get me and Jack to go do things. You're so outgoing, sometimes too outgoing. Those people at the ski lodge didn't exactly appreciate it when you tried to start a debate with them about which 90s rock band was the best. I'm thankful, though. Without you, Jack and I would probably have watched at least two years worth of Netflix. I guess there'll be lots of time for you to watch Netflix when you wake up, though. You promised me you'd watch at least one of my favorite shows, if I learned how to dance." She laughed to herself softly. More beeps, angry beeps.  
"TK, I gotta go. I'll be back tomorrow. I promise." She stood up and pushed the chair back. A pause by the bed. A soft kiss on the cheek. Butterflies. "Thanks. For everything. From me and Jack."

* * *

Searing pain. The worst ever. Doctors and nurses ran around the room, banging on machines and talking to each other in panicked voices.

"His brain has almost completely shut down," the doctor, the one with the weird accent, said. "Is there anything we can do?"

"The injections aren't working."

Has breathing always been this impossible?

"His heart beats are getting fainter."

More voices.

Air.

Callie, Jack.

Pain.

"Oh God, we've lost him!"

Quiet.


End file.
